sweat on my skin, this mess we're in
by land locked
Summary: he aches for her. {one-sided trory.}


_The city sunset over me_

He had memorised the details of her physical form to every excruciating (beautiful) detail. Her moon-glow skin, radiant under any natural or unnatural light, the parting of her rose petal lips (a cliché, but painfully true) and oh, her eyes! He could wax lyrical for hours about those cerulean orbs, which grew maddeningly wider as he danced around her, teasing a storm from her as they darkened with crackling energy. He had seen those eyes light up with joy, but never for him.

It was not only her beautiful form that had swaddled his mind to near claustrophobic obsession; no, the sharp and brilliant brain that lay under her silken hair was to be marvelled at. She had a thousand books tucked away in there, an encyclopaedic knowledge that thirsted for more, more, more. She was inquisitive, eager and driven in every single academic pursuit; she was sweet, kind and witty; and she wanted nothing to do with Tristan Dugray.

_No need for words now_

_We sit in silence_

Rory Gilmore's arrival at Chilton had sparked the rapid flapping of jealous, disdainful and curious mouths alike, but Tristan was instantly transfixed. He attempted to pique her interest in the only way he knew how: incessantly following her and calling her 'Mary'. He learned (not quickly enough) that this would not result in Rory giggling and falling straight into his manly arms. Louise? Definitely. Paris? Eventually. But Rory was distinctly unlike any of the girls he'd been surrounded with his whole life. She had not experienced first class air travel, or any kind of air travel for that matter, and would hardly know which utensil to use in the restaurants frequented by his parents and their socialite friends.

No, Rory Gilmore was better than anyone he had ever known, despite not having the right backpack and shoes that looked a little scuffed (they were, however, fiercely polished). And yes, her repeated rejection of her had rankled him; he, who had received everything he could ever think to want, was suddenly discarded in favour of a bag boy? She had been so achingly lovely at the dance his heart had thrummed and hurt underneath his skin. He had spent hours cursing her name at the heavens as though there was a sentient being who would strike down the runt who ever dared touch what was his. Darkly, he had pictured what it would be like to break her boyfriend's bones. Tristan then imagined being bathed in the sunshine of her smile.

_Night and day_

_I dream of making love_

_To you now baby_

That kiss changed everything. The world seemed to burst and shrink and starlight glittered on the road as he drove home on the brightest night the world had ever seen. Okay, she had cried, but before that she had definitely responded to his advances. This would be the beginning of something deafeningly wonderful; he could feel it in his vibrating bones. It might be awkward for a while, sure, but that was to be expected after that ridiculous game of cat and mouth and their respective heartbreak. When she had pointed him in Paris' direction, he had been furious. How could she be so flippant? Like their time together had meant nothing? And yet, he waited.

The tickets had been the last straw. He had heard her remark to Paris that she loved PJ Harvey, and Tristan had smiled a secret smile; that was his way in. Yet she brashly rebuffed him, as if he hadn't made any kind of effort, as if he was nothing.

_What were you wanting?_

_(What was that you wanted?)_

He was on the verge of doing something awful terrible; pulling her into him, claiming her lips in the middle of the courtyard, letting everyone know who she belonged to. He had been thirsting after her for too long, and it was time to drink deep from her plump lips.

However, Rory brushed him off like he was nothing more than a persistent speck of lint on her otherwise perfect life, and he stood holding her books ransom while she and her boyfriend locked lips at the front of the school. He wanted to scream of her dalliance, the taste of her on his lips still fresh and sweet in his memory, but his voice was caught in his throat.

_I don't think we'll ever meet again_

* * *

><p><em><strong>note: <strong>that didn't quite turn out the way i planned but i guess it's okay. song is 'this mess we're in' by PJ Harvey. review if you wanna._


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